In Chinatown, the Thanksgiving Refrain Becomes I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do

There were brides on the couches and brides on the stairs. Brides with rhinestone clips in their hair, brides clutching roses and brides in antebellum white gowns with ballooning skirts. Brides who rustled as they walked and brides who simply did not talk, instead sitting in chiffon islands of calm amid the hubbub.

East Broadway in Chinatown was one great festive cornucopia of brides yesterday, its steamy restaurants booked in shifts for wedding receptions and its shops working full tilt to primp and photograph the couples in their rented finery.

Thanksgiving traditionalists may go uptown for the annual parade. But Chinese immigrants from Fujian Province come to East Broadway, in crowds so thick that the sidewalks become impassable, for the new tradition of a Thanksgiving Day matrimonial marathon.

''All over America, people come here for their weddings on this day,'' said Yang Chao Lu, the manager of the Triple Eight Palace restaurant, one of the busiest reception halls in the neighborhood. ''They only have this day off, and anyway, it is now the fashionable thing to do to marry on Thanksgiving.''

Immigrants have always transformed American traditions to their own needs and tastes, but the exuberant Thanksgiving Day marriages may be among the more nimble examples of necessity spawning invention.

Many Fujianese work in restaurants, so their holidays have developed in counterpoint to Chinese restaurant hours. That means Mondays on East Broadway are crowded because many restaurants are closed that day.

Thanksgiving is simply the mother of all Mondays. Most Americans are at home eating turkey, not out in search of dim sum, and relatives of the restaurant workers are free from school and other jobs to gather as a clan.

Wedding planners estimated that 60 to 80 Fujianese couples were celebrating marriages yesterday on East Broadway, and that each couple brought an entourage of up to 500 people. They came from everywhere: Florida, Texas, South Carolina, California, Georgia and points beyond. And many came by bus.

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Near Market Street, the unofficial bus terminal of Chinatown, big buses waiting to deliver them back home were double-parked so close together that their side-view mirrors kissed. ''Boston, Boston, 15 dollars,'' a young woman shouted, over the equally loud shouts from an old woman yelling ''Philadelphia, five! Philadelphia five dollars!''

The sidewalks were impassable because of the crowds. A distributor of phone cards said he expected to sell 10,000 in one day. Florists struggled to deliver huge bouquets. Car traffic fared no better: at times, the street was one honking mass of delivery trucks and flower-bedecked white stretch limousines in unhappy gridlock.

At the Highlight Studio, one of the neighborhood's biggest wedding planners, the main floor was a kaleidoscope of white-gowned brides, bridesmaids in mint-green chiffon dresses, women in multicolored sequined sheaths waiting to be photographed, nervous mothers trying to fit winter coats over their daughters' satin dresses, and a meandering group of dazed bridegrooms who were having loose buttons sewn onto their jackets.

''I have 26 weddings today -- a record so far this year,'' said Carol Law, the owner. She surveyed the scene of controlled pandemonium, with brides in veils and blue jeans and various other states of preparation. ''Everything is under control,'' she said, and then giggled.

This was a good day, Ms. Law explained as she pulled out a calculator. Twenty-six couples. Four dresses for each bride (for different parts of the ceremony). Two suits for each groom. Two outfits each for the best man and bridesmaid. Four outfits for each set of parents. And all of it rented -- along with the jewelry -- from her store for the day.

Shawn Lin, who came from Fujian Province six years ago, sat watching it all with an amused smile. His brother Eric, who works in a food supply store, was marrying a young woman he had dated for four or five years.

They had brought members of both families up from Memphis, where they work. ''We also have family here,'' said Shawn Lin, his spiked black hair streaked with shades of red and blond. ''And everybody can get today off.''

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A version of this article appears in print on November 29, 2002, on Page B00003 of the National edition with the headline: In Chinatown, the Thanksgiving Refrain Becomes I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe